


Table Talks

by ceitean



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceitean/pseuds/ceitean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starting the apocalypse is easy. Surviving it is hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table Talks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikeneko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeneko/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! And I hope you have a very Happy Holidays!

Starting the apocalypse is easy. Surviving it is hard.

I was sitting in the back of a caravan truck, surrounded by crates of food and supplies. The only light came from my pendant, bent and scuffed but still with me, even after everything. It’s presence was better than a teddy bear.

The ride was bumpy as MacAnally’s caravan made it’s way around the ruins of Chicago. The roads were still a wreck and going through the city itself was not an option for sane people. Sure, I may have been able to blast most of the oozing, face-eating monstrosities that came lurching out of the alleys - I’d gotten very, very good at that over the years - but doing so defeated the purpose of traveling incognito.

And the Ways… well, the Ways had been less than useless for a long time.

So in the back of Mac’s truck I stayed. And waited.

I was half dozing in the dark when I felt the truck come to a lurching stop. Almost before I could think, I was up in a crouch behind a strategically placed crate, blasting rod clutched in my fist and pointed at the doors. Holding my breath, I Listened. The other vehicles of the caravan - some trucks, a few outlying riders - grumbled to a stop next to mine. I heard a cab door open and shut.

There were voices, too low to make out. Silence, then the sound of the cab door again. The truck’s engine started up and we were moving forward, slower this time.

I let out a breath. It was probably a checkpoint, not an attack.

But I still kept my blasting rod out. Paranoia isn’t an easy habit to break.

We went through two more checkpoints. While we were stopped, I could hear people opening and going through the other trucks, but no one came in mine. Score one for Mac.

Two crawling hours later, and we were in the demesne of Marcone, the Baron of Old Chicago.

______________

The war with the Outsiders had not gone well.

I hadn’t even been around for most of it, but the things I saw would claw at my mind for the rest of my life. The enemy was sly and ever-present, invading every power structure in the Nevernever and the mortal world. But we put up a fight and won a number of battles, rebuffed any number of intrusions.

We thought we had the enemy back on the ropes. We thought we had stemmed the tide of the invasion.

And then the Outsiders delivered the the worst blow they could have dealt us. They dissolved the barrier to the Nevernever.

To be strictly technical, it wasn’t a complete dissolution. In many places, much of the permeable membrane between our worlds was still intact. But in some areas, that barrier was all but gone.

Humankind did not reacted well to being dropped in the middle of the supernatural world. I’d have snorted and called it typical if the aftermath hadn’t been so devastating. Creatures that humanity hadn’t believed in for centuries had appeared once again to walk beside us.

To hunt us.

It wasn’t long before the mortals brought the heavy artillery in. The days were chaotic and the nights were terrifying. A lot of people died, a lot of friends, and there was close to nothing I could do about it. Winter’s mantle only went so far.

I don’t like thinking about that time if I can help it.

When the chips were finally done falling, the world had changed.

______________

The back door of my truck creaked open. I squinted my eyes at the light, still tense.

“Clear,” said Mac. My eyes adjusted. Mac was holding open the door for me, the setting sun behind him outlining him in reddish-orange. He didn’t look a day older than he had when I first met him, God, decades ago. He clothes were still pristine, his head still bald, but instead of an apron he wore a tactical vest that had seen a lot of use. I stretched my long, cramped legs, grabbed my things and jumped out of the truck.

We were beside some kind of warehouse, a little ways off from the other trucks of the caravan. In the distance, I could see many other buildings and an unbelievably tall fence closing us in. Probably electrical, among other things. It comforted me, for more than one reason.

The area was clean. Orderly. It was a disorienting contrast to all the abandoned and burned out buildings I had seen lately. A number of people had started to congregate around the caravan trucks. From this far off, I couldn’t get an exact feel of the crowd, but there was no desperation there. Excitement, maybe, from the thought of new goods, but no grasping for bread or other basics. The people here were stable.

I wasn’t exactly surprised. Say what you would about him, Marcone always did know how to run his ship.

“Is the contact here?” I asked.

Mac pointed with his chin to the warehouse.

“Right. I guess this is it,” I said. He grunted. “I’ll see you around. Thanks for the trip.”

Mac nodded and reached out a hand. I blinked at it, then gave it a firm shake.

Then without another word, Mac slid back into his truck and drove away.

I turned to the warehouse. I was standing by a side entrance; a pair of huge loading doors stood cracked open in front of me. I could see the black eye of a security camera up in one corner and briefly debated short-circuiting it just to be contrary, but decided against it. What can I say, it looks like maturity really does come with age. Eventually.

Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I entered the warehouse.

The inside was cavernous and dim, th fading light from the windows throwing shadows across rows and rows of shelves full of what I assumed were supplies. I walked through them, alert to any sound or movement. I couldn’t hear anyone.

When I reached what I judged to be the center of the warehouse, the shelves abruptly stopped. Instead, the space was filled with cluttered lab tables and miscellaneous equipment. I saw beakers and pipettes and huge chalk boards surrounding the area. It could almost have passed for a science classroom.

That is, if there had been any technological equipment in the area. Or if the familiar scribblings on the chalk boards had been physics equations instead of metaphysical ones.

The sight of that cramped, messy handwriting left me nearly weak with irrational relief. She was there.

Curious, I started to poke around. The work on the boards was interesting - genetic tracing, possibly - but not my expertise. The lab tables were fascinating, though. Each was set inside a large copper circle set into the concrete of the floor. On one table I saw a number of small, labeled jars of what looked like ink. As I watched, the ink in one of the jars seemed to move on it’s own, as if a breeze drifted across it’s surface. Another lab table held an assortment of plants - one looked like a common dandelion, another had petals that looked like a woman’s face. Caught in a glass case was a clipping of a strange, blue-tinged bush I had only ever seen growing in the heart of Winter. A table in the corner held a assortment of bones, some as large as my arm. A table in the center had jugs filled with fluttering butterflies.

I hummed to myself. If I had to guess, this seemed like a collection of flora and fauna from the Nevernever. But why?

I leaned down to look at the butterflies. Their markings were strange. It was almost as if the wings had letters written on them -

“Those are not the droids you are looking for,” a wry voice said behind me.

I whirled around. My hand rose automatically, a spell ready on my lips.

A young woman stood in the doorway behind me. She was thin and very tall for a girl, even in flat shoes. Her straight black hair was pulled into a high, tidy pony tail, not a strand out of place. She wore practical clothing with more pockets than I could count and had a pair of glasses tilted up to rest on the top of her head. A little name tag on her jacket read, _M. Mendoza_.

I felt my chest constrict. But instinct took over and I did a quick read on her before I moved, just to be sure. But the energy was right and I didn’t sense the presence of a veil or a shapeshifter.

“What,” Maggie said. “No hug hello?”

Three quick strides brought me to her and I enveloped her in a huge bear hug that rocked us both from side to side. “Oh, thank God,” I said. I felt my eyes sting a bit.

Hey. A man’s allowed to get emotional when he sees his daughter for the first time in almost a year.

I pulled back to get a better look at her. She looked fine, healthy. I didn’t see any bruises or broken bones. She was smiling.

“I am so glad to see you,” I said and I meant it with all my heart. “I just wish it wasn’t here.”

Her smile slipped a bit. She stepped away from me. “Well. We can’t always get what we want. But I missed you, too.”

Maggie had been living and working in Marcone’s territory for most of the last year. It was not an arrangement I was very cheerful about, to put it mildly, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. My daughter had inherited a lot from her parents, not least a single-minded stubbornness strong enough to make men weep in frustration. And in truth, there were far worse places for her to live. At least Marcone’s territory had defenses and some measure of safety.

Like I said, the world had changed. There were no such things as black and white anymore, and Marcone had always thrived in the shades of grey.

“How have you been? Are you alright? Is anyone making you do things you don’t want to do?”

But changed world or not, if I ever found out Marcone or any of his people had harmed a hair on Maggie’s head, I would drop kick them right off the planet, I swore to God.

“I’m fine, every thing’s fine. I’ve been able to get a lot of good work done,” she said, waving a hand at the lab tables. “This is just the staging area - there’s a bigger place downstairs where we do the real work, mostly on the Outsider pathogens. We’ve been able to cook up two new vaccines in the last month,” she said, obviously proud. “And the new sentry system is better than anything I’ve ever seen before. I’m in the process of seeing if we can export it to the other settlements.”

I doubted if Marcone would lend out any valuable defense without extracting an equally extravagant payment, but I held my tongue. This was not the time to rehash old arguments. (Even if I was right.)

“That’s amazing, Maggie,” I said. “I’m proud of you. I really, truly am.” I looked around. “Where’s Mouse?”

“Downstairs. He's got his own job in the preschool and we didn't know you were coming until a few hours ago.” she said. “It’s just me for now.”

Something about that stopped me. She held my eyes, calm.

“… they’re using you vet me,” I said slowly. “To see if I’m on the level.”

“And to see if you’re going to cause any property damage. You don’t have the best reputation here,” she said, shrugging. “And Mr. Marcone’s security people think you’re less likely to cause havoc if I’m involved.”

“They don’t know me very well,” I growled. I scanned the area again. We were being watched.

“But you’re not going to cause any wanton destruction and panic today, right?”

I took a breath. “As long as I’m not given cause, no.”

“Swear?”

I gave my daughter a level look. “I swear. I will not attack anyone under Marcone’s aegis while I’m here, unless I’m provoked.”

Maggie spoke over her shoulder. “That’s as good as you’re going to get,” she yelled to the back of the warehouse. “I’d take it, if I were you.”

A distant voice replied, “Alright, we’re clear.”

There was a deep, grinding noise. I tensed up, but Maggie stayed calm. “Relax, dad,” she muttered under her breath.

“I am relaxed. I am the king of relaxed,” I shot back. She snorted. Youngsters. They just don’t respect their elders anymore.

A number of shelves off to the left started to rise up, the floor beneath them sliding glacially over to reveal a staircase and an elevator going down. With a final _whump_ , the way was clear.

“Come on,” Maggie said, tugging on my arm like she used to. “They’re waiting for us.”

And so together we walked down to meet with the Baron Marcone.

______________

Maggie led me through the nearly endless halls of the complex. We passed a lot of people and I noticed that Maggie got more than a few smiles and deferential nods.

"Most of the population lives up top," she explained. "But a lot of our defense and research work happens down here. I've got a team of my own in the west sector."

 _Our. My._ I grunted. "Does Marcone get involved with you or your team at all?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I usually only see him when it comes to trading with the other settlements and colonies. Mostly I work with Dian."

"Who's Dian?"

She looked at me from the corner of her eyes. "Dian Perrino. He's in charge of developing our trade agreements."

The name clicked. Perrino was one of Marcone's newest lieutenants. Young, competent. After the last outbreak had taken out some of Marcone's top people, folks in the Paranet had started calling Perrino the Heir.

Something very panicky and not at all rational started to grow in my chest. I decided Maggie and I were going to have a very long talk when this was over.

Finally, we reached a tasteful suite of rooms deep in the complex. It looked very much like all the rest of Marcone's offices I had had the please of forcibly redecorating over the years.

Inside, Gard was waiting. Like Mac, she hadn’t aged a bit. After all this time dealing with non-mortals, it still threw me off for a second.

Gard nodded politely at me, but kept a professionally wary pose. “Mr. Marcone is ready to see you now,” she said.

“Gee, I feel so honored.” I heard Maggie sigh next to me. Gard ignored me and opened the door. With one last glance, I left Maggie in the sitting room and followed Gard inside.

Marcone was one of those men who seemed to have lived most of their lives as a strong, middle-aged man in his prime. It was hard to think of him as anything else. But the years had started to take their toll. His hair was almost completely grey, with shots of black running through it here and there. He moves were still deliberate and sure, but not quite as quick as they used to be. Nevertheless, he retained the archetypal image of the patriarch - strong, commanding, and very, very dangerous. That Marcone had managed to live through the last few years while keeping his power intact said more than enough about his capabilities.

These days, Marcone’s power didn’t come from drugs and prostitution and real estate scams. Marcone’s little city was the successor to Chicago and he ruled it outright. From a certain perspective, you could almost say Marcone went legit. If becoming the absolute ruler of your domain counts as going legit, anyway.

“Mr. Dresden. It has been a long time.” He didn’t rise from behind his desk.

I scowled and settled into an available chair. “Not long enough.”

“I see you are still deficient in the art of pleasantries. Very well. Is this a personal call or a professional one?”

“Both.”

“That’s surprising,” he said, but he didn’t look surprised. “As far as I am aware, I have no quarrel with your Queen.”

"You're going to have a quarrel with me, Marcone, if you think you can force my daughter to stay here." No use beating around the bush, I thought. It was good to get these things laid out on the table.

Marcone just looked bored. "The young woman is free to leave when she wishes. The only stipulation is she cannot take the research done here with her. She has long fulfilled any obligations to me and this city that were laid upon her."

I leaned closer. "I’m going to make this crystal clear. If I ever find out that you coerced her to come here, or that she was hurt in any way - "

"Spare me the melodramatics, Mr. Dresden. Miss Mendoza is a visiting researcher, one who is welcome here as long as she wishes. If you have an objection to her work, I suggest you take it up with her." Marcone steepled his fingers together. "But as much as I have missed your theatrics and threats, I do not think you came here to argue about Miss Mendoza.

“So do tell me - why are you here, Mr. Dresden?"

I've matured a lot over the years. So instead of blasting the bastard through the wall like me inner five yer old wanted, I reached into my duster pocket. Gard immediately took a step forward. I watched her, then slowly pulled out a single piece of paper I had carried with me all the way from the Outer Gates.

I handed it to Marcone.

He cracked open the seal and read it. Then, slowly, his eyes raised up to meet mine.

After the Outsider attack, the world had never been the same. Governments were toppled, cities fell, stable populations went into chaos. The old protections from the supernatural world were shaken or completely gone. And though Mad was still a power, her Unseelie Accords did not, at present, afford the security they once did.

It was time for that to change.

What Marcone held in his hands was an invitation to a congress of sorts. A gathering to create a new Accords. One that not only reinstated the old laws of hospitality and guest right, but also, for the first time, openly invited the factions of humanity to the table.

"Tell me, Mr. Dresden," he finally said. "Do you honestly think this can work?"

“Yes,” I answered. Then, taking a deep breath, I said, “All that we’ve had for the past few decades has been destruction and ruin. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being the cause of it. It’s time we start building something again. Maybe,” I said with a gesture at the paper, “Maybe something better.”

For a long time, Marcone didn't speak.

It was startling to realize it, but I had known John Marcone for most of my life at that point. And never in all that time - not when I was 25 and a private detective, not when I was 30 and a Warden of the White Council, not when I was 40 and a newly minted Knight for Queen Mab - had I ever once thought I'd be sitting in front of that man and offering peace terms. And not just peace terms, but a prominent seat at the table. We were talking United Nations level of influence, if the United Nations had ever had any kind of real power.

More than that, I was giving him a hell of a lot of leverage.

He was the first human signatory under the old Unseelie Accords. He was the precedent, the blueprint for how this would work. He also controlled a sizable domain and had enough contacts and power to blow the new treaty off if he wanted to.

"Please tell your Lady that I agree to her terms."

I blinked at him. I couldn’t be sure, but I think Gard did, too. “That’s it?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Did you want something more, Mr. Dresden?”

“No, but I thought you would,” I said frankly. “You’re not going to ask for a little something extra to sign on?” 

Marcone leaned back in his chair. “Not to belabor the obvious,” he said, “But I am not immortal, Mr. Dresden. And while I have managed to do my own fair share of building in my life, my thoughts have recently turned more toward leaving a legacy behind me. This,” he put a hand on the invitation, “is a legacy I would not mind being a part of. I am willing to join the talks for these new Accords.”

And that was it. Done and done.

It should not have been that easy.

I  crossed my arms and stared narrowly at Marcone. He seemed content to just sit there, watching me back. I had the feeling he may have even thought this was _funny_.

"Fine. I'll tell Mab that you're in. The gathering should be soon." Despite myself, I shook my head. Peace with Marcone. Hell's bells. I knew it was coming - hell, Maggie essentially _worked_ for him - but it was still hard to believe. Too many years as enemies to think the world was that different. “This is crazy." 

Marcone’s mouth quirked into a smile that almost reached his eyes. He lifted the invitation in a salute. “To the future. And whatever it has in store.”

 

FIN


End file.
